Spear-heads, above the columns dun, The bands that moved to Branksome's aid. IV. Vails not to tell each hardy clan, From the fair Middle Marches came; The Bloody Heart blazed in the van, Announcing Douglas, dreaded name ! Vails not to tell what hundreds more, From the rich Merse and Lammermore, And Tweed's fair borders, to the war, Beneath the crest of old Dunbar, And Hepburn's mingled banners, come, Down the steep mountain glittering far, And shouting still," a Home! a Home!" V. Now squire and knight, from Branksome sent, On many a courteous message went; To every chief and lord they paid To taste of Branksome cheer. Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot, Rode forth, in seemly terms to call But angry Dacre rather chose In his pavilion to repose. VI. Now, noble Dame, perchance you ask, How these two hostile armies met? Deeming it were no easy task To keep the truce which here was set; Where martial spirits, all on fire, Breathed only blood and mortal ire— They met on Teviot's strand : They met, and sate them mingled down, As brothers meet in foreign land. Were interchanged in greeting dear; Visors were raised, and faces shewn, And many a friend, to friend made known, Partook of social cheer. Some drove the jolly bowl about; With dice and draughts some chased the day; And some, with many a merry shout, In riot, revelry, and rout, Pursued the foot-ball play. VII. Yet, be it known, had bugles blown, Those bands, so fair together ranged, Had sunk in war-cries wild and wide, And whingers *, now in friendship bare, The social meal to part and share, Had found a bloody sheath. *A sort of knife, or poniard. 'Twixt truce and war, such sudden change But yet on Branksome's towers and town, The sun's declining ray. VIII. The blithesome signs of wassell gay Give the shrill watch-word of their clan; |